


Coyote

by Ketakoshka



Series: Dread Child Jon [10]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Coyotes, Hunt!Jon, M/M, Monster Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Shapeshifter Jon, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketakoshka/pseuds/Ketakoshka
Summary: Martin simply laughs a bit manically at their faces, startling them from their staring contest with Jon. "You do know Jon's not a dog, right?"Sasha blinks rapidly. "Not a dog?" She looks back at Jon who's busy horking down the rest of the mouse before attacking his hard rubber chew toy. "What do you mean not a dog?!"Jon looks up then, golden eyes gleaming with mischief as he wonders just what his human will say.Martin pulls up the image search for Jon's specific subspecies before answering. "He's a coyote… They eat dead things."-Jon is the Hunt's kid.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Dread Child Jon [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884709
Comments: 6
Kudos: 135





	Coyote

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the references to Jon's peculiar behavior are typical for coyotes.
> 
> For example, aggressive coyotes often wag their tails while snarling.  
> Coyotes are monogamous (usually).  
> Coyotes can live on their own or in a pack, but if they live in a pack, there's only one pair that has pups.  
> Coyotes have many different kinds of barks and howls to denote different stimuli.  
> Coyotes have different attacking behaviors based on sex. (Males often balance on their hind legs while fighting. Females stay on all fours because they are more aggressive; they tend to grab necks and forelegs while fighting.)
> 
> Seriously, look into coyotes, they're probably cooler than wolves.

Hot breath warms the back of his neck just before a long tongue laps at the splatters of blood dotting the young man’s skin, and Martin sighs heavily with annoyance. Molten gold eyes blink at him with clear amusement, but the beast doesn’t stop until all of his kill has been cleaned from the human’s skin. The rabbit warms up the coyote’s belly and leaves him pliant under the human’s hands once Martin’s finally clean.

“You’re a fucking nightmare, Jon,” Martin grouses but accepts the grateful nuzzle of the eldritch creature. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.”

The woods are strangely quiet around them; they've been quiet since the pack was taken, leaving only the pup that they were given to rear. Without them, Jon was so alone, entreated only by the meals he took and the stray animals that would wander just once into his territory. The prey learned how to be silent, how to hide and hope that they'll never have to run; Jon enjoys the chase afterall.

But Martin is a different story: neither wolf nor prey.

Jon allows himself to unravel this form and graciously accepts the long, oversized coat from the human. The young man he becomes is nearly the same age as Martin, but beyond that, they are so very dissimilar. While Martin is tall, pale and chubby with tons of freckles, curly, red hair and brilliant blue eyes, Jon is small, dark and slender with a small smattering of freckles across his nose and under his yellow eyes and thick waves of black hair that come down to his shoulders.

Except for his eyes which look so far from human that it's a wonder more people don't suspect him of being a monster in disguise, Jon looks nothing like the coyote. The coyote, while smaller than a wolf, is one of the larger subspecies with soft, grey, outer fur and a thick, black undercoat, perfect for the mountains where Jon was born.

Martin often wonders if his friend misses the pack that should have raised him.

* * *

_There are squalling little pups in the den – four, excluding the one that doesn't belong. Pup knows that he is not the same as the pack; he looks too much like the hunters that they must hide from. Still, they consider him pack, just as they have since his birth parent delivered him unto their territory._

_When he manages to escape the den, always caught and dropped back into the rocky alcove, he likes to watch the other coyotes play and fight and hunt… and he wishes that he could be just like them._

* * *

_Pup stretches out and yelps when he hits his hand (… paw?) on an uneven spot. He looks down at a chest of gray fur and tips his head to look at his paws and bushy tail. It dawns then, that he's a coyote too, and his chest swells with blissful relief. He yips and tumbles over on unstable legs, wagging his tail with excitement that he looks more like mother and father._

_Mother blinks at him before stretching out to sniff his fluffy ears. Upon realizing that this coyote is indeed her adopted pup, she lets out an excited little noise and picks him up by his scruff to nestle him beside his younger siblings. They squeak and growl at him as they fight over mother's milk, expecting that he, as the bigger littermate, will wrestle his way in. But Pup's mouth isn't full of needle-like, milk teeth._

_Pup grumbles at them and curls up closer to mother, knowing that a portion of the pack's meal will enter the den and that he and mother will eat with father. Their squalling is less annoying than it was before._

_Pup grumbles as mother laps the blood from his forehead and scruff. She nips his ear so gently, just enough to chastise the largest of her litter. He makes an apologetic sort of noise and tries his best to still himself. He is in trouble for wandering off again, but the fact that he caught a hare all on his own is enough cause for mother to praise her adopted son._

_Pup watches as father comes into the alcove with a chunk of recent carrion that he and mother will feast upon. The hare is still warm in his belly, lulling him into a quiet doze._

* * *

_A long, alarmed howl sounds in the distance, sending the pack into a frenzy to get mother and the litter inside. She looks for Pup, but he's not there; he followed father on a hunt… but father is dying._

_Mother tries to huddle around her smallest pups, tries to keep them quiet, but the hunters_ will _find the alcove._

_Pup cries for his pack and tries to break through the cage to no avail… he's too small._

_Pup knows that the hunters will kill them._

* * *

Jon snarls and snaps at the hand on his scruff but stops just short of nipping Martin's fingers. His ears press backwards, and he lets out a low-pitched submissive whine.

Martin strokes his fur gently, not surprised or scared in the slightest that Jon reacted violently. "Nightmare?" he asks, barely raising his voice above a whisper.

Jon tips his head in his version of a nod.

Martin grimaces and pats the spot by his torso. "Would reading to you help?"

Tail wagging slightly, the coyote yips and wiggles his way up to Martin's side. He lays his head on the pillow, remembering that it is soft and good. His eyes are doe-like and kind, reminding Martin of the gangly thing he'd been when they met.

After a moment, Martin cracks open a trashy romance novel about werewolves; strangely, Jon seems enthralled.

* * *

Jon despises collars with every fiber of his being. He may growl or snap or whine, but he knows that it is often a necessary evil. This is not one of those times.

Having given up on arguing with the coyote, Martin weathers the strange looks he's getting over the fact his 'date' is wearing a soft, leather dog collar. He suspects this is revenge for moving the two of them so far from the woods and for allowing people to call Jon 'his dog'. Still, if he blocks out the nosy people glancing their way and focuses on the fact that Jon’s so pleased with his plan that he's making an effort to sign and willingly put on human clothes, Martin actually feels… _happy._

He has a new flat and his best friend, and come Monday, he starts his new job at the Magnus Institute. He can't really think of much he longs for, especially when Jon smiles at him with that strange, too-many-teeth way that he finds kind of charming. Even if Jon can't really talk, he's happy with the way things are.

* * *

Jon hates when Martin leaves, absolutely despises it… not for the fact that he's alone. Jon prides himself on being an independent creature; he's had to be. But since coming to this new territory, he hasn't been able to run off whenever he wants; he wonders if this is what it's like for dogs.

One of the blessings, Jon supposes, is that he's able to read. It's difficult at times to manipulate things with his snout and paws, but the large tablet Martin bought for him is one of the few things he's learned to operate with his nose. They have a library card, and Martin puts new books on his tablet every other weekend.

Other days, Jon watches out of the window at birds and small animals that he often chases from their yard, getting rather annoyed at how small and confined it is. Sometimes, he catches one of the offenders, but it's just not the same.

And on weekends, Jon sometimes convinces Martin to take him to the nearest woods so he can finally hunt. 

* * *

_One of the hunters calls Pup a dog._

_They say he looks wrong. They say he's too different of a color - he's pale gray where the others had a deeper, almost brown tint. They say he's the wrong age to be one of mother's litter. They think he's an abandoned puppy, adopted by a wild coyote pack._

_The hunter decides to take Pup with him. He takes Pup to a place that smells of chemicals and stinking fear. There are other creatures, but none really look like Pup. There's a strange human, one with pastel furs who coos at Pup and calls him a pretty dog._

_The strange human stabs him with tiny claws…_

* * *

_Pup screeches indignities as he's hauled into the loud metal beast. Locked in a box that's far smaller than mother's den, he finds himself curling into a tiny ball to watch through the metal gate. His cage is covered in warnings, telling the humans not to stick their fingers inside…_

_Pup's surprised they listen… and he wishes they didn't._

* * *

Jon jolts awake with a start, a fearful whine tumbling out before he can stop it. He looks around, ears flat to his head as he momentarily forgets where he is. But when he scents the air, he finds Martin's scent on the blanket under his chest; he remembers that he's safe.

He nuzzles down into the blanket, surrounding himself in that softness that just managed to edge out the thudding of his heart… but it's not the same as having his _mate_ there.

He's so happy when Martin comes home.

* * *

_The hunter is scared._

_She knows that she was wrong._

_Pup is a coyote._

_The older he gets, the more he grows into that lanky frame and thin-muzzled face._

_She knows that she should turn him in… but he'd likely be put down._

_Wild animals shouldn't be kept as pets…_

_It's too difficult for them to return to the wild…_

_But Pup never adapted._

_So, she lets him go._

* * *

_Pup finds himself in a thick wood, surrounded by lush trees and tiny skittering creatures that understand they are prey. He chases and catches fresh meat for the first time in months; they taste like heaven._

_The wolves are wary._

_They know that he is kin, but he is not one of them. They don't understand why they feel compelled to accept someone so blatantly other._

_He kills a deer by himself._

_The pack is impressed by him._

_He catches a hare and brings it to the sweet nursing wolf whose expressive eyes remind him of mother._

_Slowly, they integrate him into the pack._

_And for a time, he is happy._

* * *

Jon comes to the conclusion that Martin shouldn't leave him alone. It's a thought that sets in shortly before the human leaves and doesn't abate until long after he returns. He tries so hard to be good, but he just can't take it.

For all Jon's desires to run and hunt, he's not incapable of stealth; in fact, Jon is a very quiet being when he needs to be. It's this fact that helps him navigate the city without being spotted, and the steady, quiet pulse of his avaunt's directions ensure that he makes it there long before Martin's scheduled for lunch.

The Beholding’s temple is oppressive in a way that the woods and mother's den never were, but Jon feels welcomed by his family's clear attempt to sneak him inside. No one seems to notice the beast slipping through the doors and looking around for the room that he must find… at least until the watcher appears at the base of the grand staircase.

They lock eyes, both refusing to look away, until Beholding whispers words of encouragement and placation. The watcher, Jonah Magnus, or rather Elias Bouchard, sighs and holds out a fist for Jon to scent. Jon does so, ingraining his avaunt's avatar into that place for important people. When a hand rubs at the spot behind his left ear, he nearly snarls, but Beholding is so gentle with its nephew, lulling the coyote into something quiet and calm.

Elias removes his hand after a moment and stands up fully. "Let's find your human."

Jon wags his tail slightly and walks side by side with the watcher as he's led to the library… but then he smells Martin, and he can see his mate sitting across from his new friend Timothy Stoker. He suddenly bolts and jumps up part way on Martin's lap, ears pressed against his head and golden eyes, doe-like and sweet.

Martin jolts back before his brain catches up with the sight of his oldest friend in a place where he isn't supposed to be. "Jon?" he grouses, "what are… how did… how did you get here?"

Jon rubs his face under Martin's chin, letting out a low sort of growl that signals how much he's missed him. His tag jingles slightly in the quiet room, calling the attention of what few researchers didn't notice the coyote come in. After a moment, Jon pulls back and quietly barks a 'thank you' at Elias; Beholding makes sure he Understands.

Elias smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of the lips that goes unnoticed by most of the room. "Just bring him to work, Mr. Blackwood."

* * *

_Pup decides he likes the wolves, likes the way they live and play together, likes the way they always hunt living things instead of substituting some prey with carrion. But still, he misses mother, father, and his squalling littermates… He often wonders if the other pups suffered much._

_He's ganglier than he used to be, long-legged and skinny with a thin snout. He's taller than the other younglings, especially the new litter: three pups. He finds himself amused by the runt, a little, grey female with a white splotch on her head. She's so loud and enthusiastic, even with her eyes still dead to the world._

* * *

_Pup's alone again… except for the runt who's much quieter now that her mother is gone. Pup doesn't know where the pack went… He doesn't even know if they're still alive, but they couldn't have gone willingly… They wouldn't have left her alone; she might be little, but she's strong._

_Pup tries to care for the little one, but he's young too. He tries to feed her fresh meat, but her teeth are still small and weak, needle-sharp and wanting milk. She's so strong… but he just can't raise her…_

_She dies a few days after her eyes finally open, blue like the sky above._

_He digs a hole for her and wails._

* * *

Jon isn't sure what to make of Martin's new human friends: Tim and Sasha.

He appreciates how they don't try to pet him like some of their coworkers. 

Yet, he's unsure of how close they're becoming with his mate.

Part of him wants to snarl, tail swaying from side to side like a viper waiting to strike; he knows they would miss understand… Coyote aggression is so much different from a _dog's_. Still, a part of him rejoices in the way his human smiles and laughs with them; it's been so long since Martin had any close human friends… All of his attention is always for Jon.

And when Martin's hand comes to rest behind his ears, petting with such gentility that it makes his heart skip, Jon can't bring himself to endanger these relationships… He can't break this fragile happiness… He won't hurt Martin like that.

* * *

Sasha looks positively repulsed when Jon comes into the main bullpen of the library, carrying a recently deceased mouse, still contained in a mousetrap. "Martin, your dog found a mousetrap."

"As long as he doesn't snap it on himself, he'll be fine."

"There's a mouse in it…"

When Jon begins biting at the carrion to pull it from the trap, both she and Tim look downright horrified. However, Martin simply laughs a bit manically at their faces, startling them from their staring contest with Jon. "You do know Jon's not a dog, right?"

Sasha blinks rapidly. "Not a dog?" She looks back at Jon who's busy horking down the rest of the mouse before attacking his hard rubber chew toy. "What do you mean not a dog?!"

Jon looks up then, golden eyes gleaming with mischief as he wonders just what his human will say.

Martin pulls up the image search for Jon's specific subspecies before answering. "He's a coyote… They eat dead things."

* * *

_There's a boy in the wood._

_A human with vibrant orange curls and a pale moon of a face spotted with freckles. He wanders alone, as quiet as he can, not wanting to interrupt the stillness and the quiet scurrying creatures; he never sees Pup watch him._

_It's been many moons since the runt perished, but still Pup cannot bring himself to leave the woods where his sister is buried. It's lonely without the pack, without kin to share a meal with… So, he watches as the boy comes and goes, until at last, he can watch no more._

* * *

_The boy rarely startles when Pup appears. He rarely flinches when he sees the coyote's teeth. He rarely grimaces when he watches those teeth rend the flesh of carrion and recently caught prey alike._

_The boy pets him sometimes, when Pup allows him the pleasure of touching the soft fur around his ears. Pup finds himself grooming the boy on those days, licking dirt and blood flecks from his pale moon face and smoothing errant curls of ginger hair._

_Pup eventually decides to let the boy see his human shape, to feel the boy’s fingers run through his hair._

* * *

Jon doesn't like the old woman.

He knows a fellow predator when he sees one, and he refuses to allow her to set her owl eyes on his human without him there.

She doesn't see either of them for many days, pulled in various directions by the Beholding’s interference, but it cannot keep her distracted forever.

When owl eyes meet Jon's, he knows that the woman is a threat to Martin. Still, he sinks into his avaunt's reassurances and promises, if she never comes for them, he will respect her as a fellow predator.

* * *

Martin Knows that Jon doesn't like Gertrude Robinson, but he also Knows that Jon doesn't want to upset their new life.

He watches with a gentle heart as Jon reaches out his snout to lay his head on Tim's lap, golden eyes soft and longing for the bag of treats in the man's desk. He watches as Jon stiffens but allows Tim to pet him before he's rewarded with a thick slice of deer jerky. He watches as Jon removes his snout to eat but doesn't move away, letting the human pet his back and side.

He watches as Sasha appears with a new toy, one that requires Jon solve its puzzle to receive the tiny meat treats inside. Both Tim and Sasha are so excited to watch Jon figure out how to get treats out of a new toy… They're flabbergasted at how fast he is, how smart he is.

Martin wonders if he should tell them that Jon isn't just a coyote.

* * *

_"You don't have a name, do you?" the boy asks, voice just as soft as the wind; Pup is grateful for the quiet._

_Pup slowly shakes his head, mildly confused by the idea of a 'name'. He understands the concept, but why would he have one? He's a coyote, not a human… not a dog either._

_"Can I name you?"_

_It's such an innocent question, and while Pup still doesn't understand, he nods in acquiescence._

_The boy, Martin smiles brightly; Pup knows that humans don't mean it as aggression. "Jon," he says, blue eyes shining like dewdrops as he's awash with glee. "I think I'll call you Jon."_

* * *

_Jon visits his little sister._

_He curls up over the spot where he buried her and thinks that perhaps he should have named her too. He thinks of her eyes, of the way she stared up at him with a quivering, whining mouth, loving him even as he failed to keep her fed._

_He names her Sky…_

* * *

The library is so quiet when Gertrude appears, having asked Martin to bring his 'dog'. Sasha and Tim decided to stay with him since they’re worried about what the old hag wants to do with Martin and his sweet coyote. They don’t know what Jon does, or Martin suspects… They don’t know that Gertrude Knows Jon is a shapeshifter, a being of the hunt, a true predator…

The institute is dead inside; it’s just the five of them and Elias in the building. No one else will hear or see what happens.

Gertrude appears in the doorway, holding an arm behind her back. Her face is set into a grim scowl, almost as if she feels reluctance for what she intends to do… but those owl eyes are bright and tempted. For a being so enraptured by the eye and the fire, she’s come to feel the thrill of a hunt just as keenly.

“Step away from the dog, Mr. Blackwood,” she orders, her voice so steady and calm.

“No,” Martin replies; he sounds almost resigned by the events. He’s so sure of how this will go.

“Step away from that thing.” Gertrude’s voice drops slightly, a vicious edge to her tone.

Jon stares her down, not snarling or growling, just watching. Martin takes a step towards her, unafraid of what she’ll try, because Jon’s beside him the whole time… Jon  _ will  _ protect him; he Knows this to be true.

“You don’t want to do this,” he says, pleading with his eyes for her to just turn around and walk away, but the three of them Know that she won’t.

Gertrude pulls her arm out from behind her back and levels it at Jon’s head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Sasha screams when she hears the gunshot, but it’s not for the sight of Jon bleeding out onto the floor… Tim doesn’t dry heave because Jon’s gushing fluids out onto Martin’s shoes… Martin doesn’t look resigned that it’s Jon’s blood splashed onto his face…

Jon sinks his teeth deeper in the woman’s neck, unbothered by the throbbing wound in his shoulder, unbothered by the reactions of the non-Martin humans. She gasps for air through a punctured trachea, fingers clawing at the thick fur of his sides. When at last he lets go, his golden eyes and bloody fangs gleam in the soft light, an ethereal hunter of the most dangerous game.

He walks over to his mate and almost seems to smile, clearly pleased with his protection of Martin. His shoulder smarts, and he knows that they’ll have to dig the bullet out later… but he’s not worried; the wound will heal as all have before, and he and Martin will be okay.

Slowly, Martin blinks at the dying woman and then at the eldritch monster lapping blood from his arms. Somehow, he's not surprised it's come to this.

“You’re a fucking nightmare, Jon."

**Author's Note:**

> I probably won't continue this one. I don't really know where I'd go beyond the reaction of Tim, Sasha and Elias to what Jon just did, and that doesn't feel all that worth it.


End file.
